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Cere'thien Blackwood
Cere'thien Blackwood is a retired, former Ranger-Scout holding the rank of Second Lieutenant, with honors. Having served for five centuries, she later turned toward healing. For a time as well as serving as a Confessor with first the Argent Dawn and later the Argent Crusade, she was known to be one of the very rare druidic-priestess' on staff in the Priestly Quarter within the Sunfury Spire due to her familial background. Over her long life, several phrases come to mind when turned toward thought of her words, passions and deeds, yet foremost of late is her presence as a Dawnmender Veteran within the rank and file of the Sunguard, and while not precisely lesser, she is a lady of high noble status; a widow, mother, and once, even a grandmother. The path walked by this woman has always been one of cutting sacrifice for purposes only known to her mind, while the deepest parts of the forester estates she holds by both gaining the love of her kin, and deep respect of those active in politics are as yet unknown. Whispers of the Lady of the Lair abound and have for centuries. The winding of time has turned Cere'thien Lissanathel from Ranger Special Operations and being one of the very talented of her generation, to a sharp and silvery tongued mistress of the wildest healing arts in existence, ironically as untamable as the woman herself. As the Matriarch of both Houses Blackwood by birth and Greyleaf through a political marriage come to an unfortunate end, she holds the privilege and immense duty of seeing to it that some of the very last uncorrupted old forest in Eversong remains whole and perfect as from the founding of the elven high home. Appearance "Love as you will, always and ever." Lady Blackwood, as she calls herself, though technically her legal surname has remained Greyleaf after her her late husband, has green glowing eyes that is paler than most. The hue of her gaze makes quite plain that unlike many a Sin'dorei with a hedonistic bent, the Matriarch valued her tight reign upon nature and arcane magic enough that she had no intentions of losing that in order to drown herself in the delights of the corrupt, choosing another path all while in the end, she was marked despite her efforts. An advanced age offers a certain cynical outlook all while she clings to hope. A retired ranger that has turned toward mending, the lady carries much of the lithe frame expected of having retired from such a path, and yet is relatively curvy, long legged and wide of hip due to the number of children she has graciously given birth to. If she is counted among the sensual - it is both subtle as the brush of a rose petal while as sharp as an arrow, but most of all - classically timeless. Platinum-blonde hair lies upswept in natural, elegant ringlets while a widow's peak delineates a brighter silver tendril that is her birthright descending from a Maternal line that can trace its heritage in a direct path to Queen Azshara's court, and more over, fleeing it. Cereth's nose is on the smaller side while her lips are little too wide and paired with prominent cheekbones. The left side of her face is marked by a silvery scar from hairline to jaw and misses the eye, gained through a mishap during her service to the Sunguard. Skin beyond the neck and abdomen are covered in a white marking with vines, Thalassian roses and thorns, this is not a tattoo even while it appears to be so, and is in fact the gain of torture from a old friend turned to madness; her back contains an elven tree balanced between life and death, fully coloured and is a tattoo added at the completion of the Third War. The former seems a carving and eerily so, while yet beautiful to look upon. Attire worn by the lady consists of a classical, noble Thalassian style with roots near a millennia old blending with the practicality of her place as a soldier, and often her place as the head of an ancient ranger line. These days, Cere'thien has a strong preference for blades having laid down her bow centuries past. The Confessor tends to smell subtly of sandalwood with a hint of wild rose oil that she prepares herself. Wild, warm, and passionate nature magic is a presence, in lieu of the Light that many elves cling to, if they hold to any faith tightly at all.